From Me to You
by stolen with the night
Summary: Elizabeth knew something was different about that writing desk the moment she laid eyes on it. So what happens when objects placed inside the antique desk go missing and in their place are letters written by a man centuries ago? She writes back of course.
1. Drawn In

**I ended up watching a Hallmark movie about a man who finds a desk and sends letters to a nurse in a war that happened almost a century before his time and i was like "Aww that's hella cute~~" I then proceeded to watch Pride and Prejudice and thus this little ficlet was born. Be kind to her. She needs love and attention to grow.**

* * *

It could be said that cleanliness is godliness. It could also be said that the owner of this flat didn't exactly follow this sentiment. Looking around one could see the evidence of this, papers and important documents littered the ugly burnt orange carpeted floor of the comfy one bedroom apartment. Dirty cups of half finished coffee lined every desk surface available along with plastic containers that once held cheap microwave food or Chinese takeout. Pens of all assortments were scattered around and on a plain, creaky but comfortable bed with green sheets that horribly clashed with the carpet and purple quilt curtains, sat a laptop that was almost hidden by a mountain of equally colorful textbooks.

This apartment belonged to none other than Elizabeth. Being twenty-three, it wasn't anything out of the ordinary especially if that twenty-three year old was a university student on her third year of studying medicine abroad. Elizabeth didn't consider herself particularly intellectual but rather ambitious with the right attitude and work ethic and because of this coupled with her want to help all those around her, had her wanting to become a doctor at a very young age. However, this took money and being an orphan a plan B was needed. So little Elizabeth studied her every waking moment to earn herself a scholarship. Two part time jobs were taken at the same time to earn money and sleep evaded her for many years and it was all going to be worth it.

Despite this Elizabeth was considered an average woman of her time if not hard working. Society of the twenty-first century demanded cut throat people with ambition and so Elizabeth with all her compassion was considered a simple person. She was the type of woman you would pass on the street and yet never glance at ever again. She wasn't ugly nor was she excessively beautiful, no, she was a pretty girl with lightly curled hair that reached past her shoulder blades, smooth slightly tanned skin and clear green eyes. Her beauty was the quiet kind and required more than a single glance to see. She was neither tall nor short and her clothing was tasteful but neutral and blending in was something she was adept at.

Nothing about Elizabeth made her stand out, she was perfectly average in the eyes of others. Ambitious but not to the point of pushing others out of the way. She was wise but not in a loud obnoxious way that caught peoples attention. She was sociable but never enough to be known by everyone. She spoke no other language other than her mother tongue and what French she had learned in her years of high school. It had been years since she had last picked up a violin and she had never touched another with the exception of the plastic recorders she was forced to play in kinder garden. She enjoyed walks but wasn't exactly a gifted athlete. She painted and while her work never resembled the childish work of modern artist it was no match for true painters. Her voice was smooth and she could carry a sweet and simple tune but anything more was out of her range. Elizabeth was the very definition of average in her time.

Yet, if someone were to take a long minute to stare into her deep pools of green they would see something that was, simply, more. More than what, not even she could say but it was there. However, the people of today hardly took the time to look at their own reflection let alone anyone else's visage and it was a shame to miss out out on the world within her eyes.

But perhaps it was for the better. You see, it was her average lifestyle that brought Elizabeth to stand in an old antique store where every object of a time now passed seemed to sparkle with life. But what truly drew her in was the writing desk that stood lonely and covered in a thin layer of dust in the far corner of the shop and who was she to know really, that this was the start of something life changing.

* * *

"I really shouldn't have." She grumbled to herself as she stared the now polished wood with pile open pile of unwrapped bubble wrap sitting at it's curved legs.

It truly was a beautiful thing. Perhaps the nineteenth century? Not that she would know, she didn't really pay attention to antiques but something about the writing desk called to her. What she did know about the writing desk was that it was in perfect condition, not single scratch to be seen, that it was clearly intended for a male as it lacked the flowery decoration it's century was knows for and finally, she knew that if she was quick enough she may just get all her money back from the antique dealer and move on as if hadn't just spent half her weeks salary on a desk that she would never use other than late night studying and took up too much room in her small abode.

But still, she simply stared at it more completely conscious of the time ticking away. It wasn't as if she had a hard time financially, she had a full ride scholarship, she getting paid to study on the condition that she work the amount of years she spent studying at the the company that sponsored her and that raked in a grand a week and a job straight out of school, she even had part time job at a small cafe below her apartment. But Elizabeth grew up wearing nothing but hand me downs and knew that money was a privilege, her childhood had made her very reluctant to splurge on herself. If it were for another, there was nothing holding her back but it had always seemed a waste to spend money on things she knew she did not need- like this desk for example.

It was as if the gleaming bronze knobs on its drawers and cubicles were goading her into doing something about its prettiness. With a huff of frustration she turned away from the desk to march towards the kitchen. Normally, she was not distracted by an objects aesthetics but rather its functional properties and she couldn't help but feel as if the desk were some form of demonic entity there to throw her off in some way. Her train of thought caused Elizabeth to snort lightly, it was nothing more than a desk, she really was being absurd.

"I'm probably just hungry. It's been a long day." Opening the fridge she let her eyes roam over the food it held, not particularly interested in it's contents she closed the door once more.

"Looks like it's take out again." She whispered to herself annoyed.

Picking up her cell phone from the kitchen bench she walked into the sitting room that was now half taken up by a desk she half didn't want to search for the plastic card that held the contact details to her favorite Chinese takeout. Finding it atop of the television she swooped it up and dialed the number printed on it and opened one of the drawers in the desk to unceremoniously drop the small card in and shut it.

The phone rung for a while before it was answered in the typical way a business demands their employees to answer a ringing phone. Only this man did not get past introducing himself as her phone let out a loud noise before powering down, it's battery flat. Elizabeth released an annoyed groan from the back of her throat as she tossed it on her only recliner and returned to the kitchen bench to pick up her house phone. With quick steps she made her way once again to the desk to nab the contact details. Opening the drawer she placed it in roughly only pause and stare disbelievingly at the empty space.

Her mind catching up to her she pulled the drawer further out only for it to be empty. "The hell..." Elizabeth whispered, confusion evident in her voice.

The house phone lay forgotten on the carpet at she pawed at every surface of the wood searching for a hidden compartment or nook in which the card could have fallen through. When none could be found she flipped over the drawer she had originally put the card in and had pulled out, expecting the Chinese take away card to fall out. Instead, a letter fluttered down from the previously empty drawer.

For a moment she ignored the letter and instead watched the drawer with narrowed eyes. The letter was too large to miss, too large to hide in the nonexistent nook of the drawer but where had it come from? Setting it down she cautiously picked up the letter, it was parchment, a thick cream colored parchment folded neatly and sealed with red wax. She knew it had to be old, the dealer who had sold the desk to her said it hadn't had a proper owner in over a century. She was holding a letter written and not sent from over a century ago, a piece of history, one that fell from absolutely no where, from a drawer that apparently swallowed things up, from a desk that she could obviously not ignore.

Normal people would have set the letter down, ignored it, or perhaps gave it to a historian for care but Elizabeth didn't. Something in her screamed for her to read it's content and so with little grace she sat down at the desk and with a pen sitting nearby almost savagely tore off the seal and unfolded the letter to read the neatly scripted words of time where penmanship apparently mattered.

_**To whom it may concern,**_

_**I know not of what to do anymore! My sweet and yet so naive sister has fallen pray to a monster of a man! She claimed to love him and knew that their coupling could not possibly receive my blessing and yet she sought to elope with him! Did she do it to spite me? She must have, for how could she not have known that this man only sought to seduce her for her riches. No, she is far too compassionate to do such a thing.**_

_**In societies eyes she is a young woman now, I must keep quiet to save her reputation. To pay this man any sum grieves and angers me but for my loving sister? Anything. Yet, it is her betrayal that hurts me the most, I almost cannot look her in the eye. My heart feels pain at the thought that she would so eagerly leave me. I cannot help but feel that were mother or father still here then she would not have fallen so quickly to false charms, that something more precious would have kept her anchored, something more precious to her than I.  
**_

_**She too is saddened, I almost do not want to know the reason. For her sorrow could only be my fault.**_

_**I am an unworthy brother,**_

_**Lost.**_

She didn't know why she did it, this man was already dead, his sister too. But, it pulled on something within her. Maybe it was because she had grown up without the love of a family and simply wanted this man to have his. She couldn't possibly change the past but she felt need to do something it didn't matter that it would not effect anything she simply wanted to reply to this Lost. So pulling out a piece of printer paper and the nearest pen she started writing.

_Lost,_

_You will never get the chance to read this and for that, I am sorry. But, if you could read this I would say, she loves you more than anything else. Your sister, despite everything obviously told you of her intent to marry this fiend and doesn't that speak for itself? You came first! In her supposed love for this man, her thoughts were on you! _

_Don't be sad, I would bet you anything that she is simply sad because she believes she has disappointed you. You who have clearly raised her without the help of your parents that you still grieve for, mean the world to her. Smile and comfort her and let yourself be comforted and know that a young heart in love is a fickle heart in love, they are meant to be broken. It was her first love, something that will always be remembered but never repeated, you know she did not mean to hurt you, let her know that._

_You are a caring man who loves his sister with all his heart, why is it so hard to believe that she could not love you with all of hers? There are thousands of men in the world and only one you, trust me, you are more important than whatever you believe out ranks you in your bid for your sisters affection._

_I wish I could have done more for you,_

_Grieving for your loss._

Observing the bright and sparkling ink of her neat and practical writing she folded up the letter and tossed it in the drawer and closed it with a saddened sigh. Why did she even bother?


	2. Celestial Beings

When Elizabeth was six years old she was first taught to play chess. She had been wandering about when she came across a lonely looking man, sitting alone and a chess set in place. No one was around with the exception of herself and her ever curious mind wondered why a man would have a chess set ready to play when there was clearly no one to play against. Sidling up closer she found herself sitting across from him simply staring into lonely and rather hollow looking eyes that stared blankly in her direction.

Being young she held no restraint and no evident control of her tongue. "You're blind!"

Immediately she regretted her outburst and waited for a lash. What greeted her only served to make her feel more guilty, a warm and inviting smile lit up this lonely mans face and he looked almost relieved to find someone talking to him.

"Yes. I have been for sometime now." His voice was tired, so tired, worn down, exhausted and yet he still smiled. His clothes torn and ragged, even more so than her own.

They talked endlessly and he seemed to revel in her voice. He would ask stupid question or purposely doubt her theories just to listen to her fire off rapid reasoning's and facts even the angry insults of a child and soon Elizabeth caught on and in a bid to tide over her guilt she babbled about the most inane and useless things. He seemed to enjoy that and it wasn't long before he was teaching her to play.

Naturally, she lost and quite quickly too. But never in her nature was it to give up and so she demanded round after round much to the mans delight. Not once did she win and when the hours of night first showed it's signs she was reluctant to leave. The man had thanked her and the sincerity in his voice made her pause before she rushed off, hoping to not get in trouble with the matron of the orphanage. Her young mind never once questioned the fact that this man, this _blind_ man had been alone for so long or that no one came for him even as it got dark because for six year old Elizabeth loneliness was all she had known.

The next day it had been raining heavily but Elizabeth was one of the few who actually enjoyed the rain. She had ran out of the orphanage doors and headed to the park where she met the man from the day before hoping to see him again despite the weather. He was not there but in the downpour, on the table they sat was the chess set, rain drops sliding off the undamaged polished wood of the board and it's pieces.

She never saw that man again and was not until years later looking at other lonely men on the street that she realized what happened. Elizabeth changed that day. Transformed. Became more beautiful than anyone could ever imagine.

* * *

She was absolutely sure of it. There just wasn't any other explanation. She, Elizabeth of London, resident of America, was insane. She should have seen it coming really. Too many nights with few hours of sleep, her job or jobs, her current lack of social life and her rather dismal childhood that consisted of screaming children and hiding in nooks and crannies available to read in, all the making of mentally unstable person.

Which was why she, at the present time, which of course was one in the morning, was clutching a heavy duty flash light to herself, a baseball bat to her side along with numerous cans of pepper spray with the window sitting above that evil writing desk wide open. Someone was clearly breaking into her home and playing one large and horrible brilliant prank on her, at least, she hoped so because if no one was then she must truly be crazy.

For you see, she had received another letter. She dared not open it, half scared either a ghost of a past (and wronged, possibly murdered) man would pop out from it's folds- another testament to her insanity. She had been squatting in the same position for almost a complete two nights, determined to catch the intruder. The unopened letter sat innocently (oh, but she knew better) on the surface of the desk, waiting to be read.

Carefully placing the torch down, Elizabeth decided it was time to call in some help. Scampering, quite like a mouse, to her kitchen she ripped her mobile from its charging place only to squeak fearfully at the sound it made and run back to her safe spot surrounded in pepper spray. Not that it would help in a case of anything supernatural.

Dialing the only number she knew off heart she placed the device against her ear and waited with baited breath until finally it was picked up.

"Charlotte! Oh thank god!" Elizabeth practically squealed into the speaker.

A sleepy groan followed. "Lizzy? Do you know what time it is?" Her good friends voice was addled with sleep and more than once was her sentenced interrupted by a yawn.

"Yes I know Charlotte but I think I'm going insane. There is a letter from a dead guy sitting on my desk! A dead mans writing! Oh but, such a sad dead man. I should have never bought that desk, i knew from the moment I saw it that it was pure evil! It drew me in with it's weird voodoo mojo and now look at me, I am cursed. I know it! This morning I went to climb the stairs and I tripped! I never trip! And you know that superstition about black cats? I ran into three of them. Three! Clearly black cats mean something. Should I call an exorcist, what if it's a friendly ghost? What if it's not? Maybe it just wants company? Oh god, his sister! He thinks I'm his sister and wants to extract revenge! What do you think Char?" She spewed out like a child on a sugar high.

Moments went by until she finally noticed the soft snores coming from the speakers and with an aggravated huff she threw down her phone on the couch. "Fat lot of good you are!"

Peering at the letter, Elizabeth moved to slowly approach it and with caution break the seal to read it's content.

* * *

**To the being who last wrote me,**

**I am convinced. A believer, if ever now. I must admit at first I was enraged to find my privacy invaded, for this I pray you are not insulted. I spent weeks interrogating each of my staff members and when none would admit to the letter I stormed towards my writing desk to have the evidence at hand only to find it missing! Not a trace! **

Here Elizabeth snorted. "You're telling me buddy."

**Another week went by and I was sure it was all a made scheme of a tired mind but low and behold when my emotions had calmed and sense could be seen the letter had returned to me, sitting unassumingly within the drawer of my desk. It kept in this fashion, dissapearing when I thought to show another then reappearing when the idea was lost to me. Your doing, my mystical being, no doubt.**

"Nope. Sorry pal, you can't blame this on me." She grumbled to herself but with hot cheeks at his assumption of her being anything other than human.

**Then it struck me, quite like a rearing stallion. You were not of this world or place. The parchment you use is thin and the most pure white! The ink a color of which I have never seen before in ink, a fluorescent blue and held within this ink, the stars! So simple yet so captivating, I could not believe I had missed the beauty of it before and I found my self simply shifting your letter from side to side admiring their twinkle.**

Letting out a giggle at his perception of her blue glitter gel pen she realized her lips had been set in a silly grin. To him something so simple could be the most ingenious thing. The stars! He sounded so childish, so, so...

"So cute." She murmured almost subconsciously.

**And when I set out to follow you advice!**

She could almost hear the happy laugh he gave here as his penmanship looped and curled more on the following sentence.

**My sweet sister and I reconciled! All you said was true! You must be an angel! Or some form of compassionate celestial being taking pity on this mere man so lost and for this I can be no more grateful than I am now, for it is impossible. I sit here and wonder, do you look over me now with scorning eyes and pure soul regretful at your interference? Or perhaps you have left already as it has already been two months since I received your letter, my ignorance and formidable temper having driven you off.**

**I know not,**

**An imperfect man.**

She had no doubt her cheeks were cherry red with dare she say, _pleased embarrassment? _He thought her to be an angel and wasn't that compliment enough? Who would regret helping out another? He called her compassionate! She had seen no temper from him but then again he seemed to be like gleeful child at his apparent discovery of her before diving into grief at apparently driving her off. What confused her the most, however, was the fact it had only been forty-eight hours since she sent the letter not two months and-

Here she noticed her train of thought and quickly stamped down on it. It wasn't good to humor her delusion and it was best she returned the desk to the antique dealer regardless of getting her money back as the antique seemed to be the subject of her fantasy. She would take a few weeks off studying to relax and catch up on sleep and when her head was clear she would move on with life.

* * *

It didn't last.

Before she knew it she was once again sitting at the desk composing another letter. This time she went out and bought bordered paper and an entire set of glitter pens and other stationary of every kind. She felt herself wanting to enthrall this man that, somehow, she knew was forced to grow up quickly, to raise his sister, and lose his parents. To see such child like happiness from him (even if he tended to brood she noticed) was most likely rare. It was odd that she could so easily adapt to the strangeness of what seemed to be a time portal of sorts. It made her wish she had paid attention to Star Trek more often but still she wanted to write. Maybe admit herself to a psych ward afterward too.

_To the Man on the other side,_

_You flatter me with your kind words. I am no angelic being, however yes, my society is so different from yours that it would be considered a different world and the object that connects us? This desk. It was not I who made the letter take leave but the desk. The parchment I used in my previous letter is called cartridge paper and writing letters by hand where I come from is uncommon. _

_I am glad you and your sister are getting along once more. I myself do not know the wonders of having family but I watch from afar and see the joy these relationships bring. I have stayed the same since your last letter, not much time has passed for me as opposed to the two months you have waited but I cannot see you with much of a temper, someone who cares so greatly for another._

_I regret nothing,_

_Supposedly Celestial Being._

With that she folded the paper in half and placed inside the drawer before closing it. Waiting only mere seconds she set out to prove herself sane. Opening the drawer again she let out a relieved giggle- for the letter was no longer there.

* * *

**Righty-o loves!**

**Another chapter! Thank you so much to everyone who Favorited, followed or reviewed, it means so much to me!**

**A common question everyone seems to be asking is what movie inspired this fic. A few have suggested Il mare or Lake house, which I hadn't even heard of until they brought it up, so, no. The movie is actually, Love letters. It's sad so if you're looking for a movie where they guy gets the girl, I wouldn't recommend it.**

**Also, yes, the man on the other side is our dear Mister Darcy. Just so we can clear that up.**

**And yes. There will be a Darcy point of view...eventually.**

**Lots of love, (sorry about the grammatical errors and all)**

**Stolen.**


	3. About that desk

_**Authors Note- **So sorry everyone, updates from me have been extremely rare but then again if I wrote often enough I would probably get bored of the adventure and we don't want that to happen, don't we? No. I apologize for the short chapters but it seems this story will just be one of those ones. Much to my dismay, spewing out long chapters for this story seems to be hard for me. Still I hope you enjoy it, though not much happens._

* * *

**Chapter 3: About that Desk...**

* * *

Elizabeth could remember with perfect clarity the exact moment she learnt what pure love was. As an orphan, even in the twenty-first century, it was common enough to be mistreated. That's to say, she wasn't abused in the slightest, simply put, she was forced to share a single adult between twenty or so children and was therefore a little neglected. This meant that simply stepping out the orphanage doors and into the dangerous world filled with god knows what, under the age of nine and without a guardian, was easy.

She, without the slightest bit of hesitation, skipped out the front doors, not at all the least bit annoyed at the lack of attention she was receiving. Leaving the crumbling building that had been her home since a few months after her birth- or so she was told- had become a common thing to her and many of the other willingly or not, abandoned children, not that she was bitter about it. Elizabeth loved the idea that she had far more freedom than was the norm for a child her age, lawful or not. She often likened herself to a bird, unable to stay long in her nest before flitting away in need of a new environment, so being an orphan never hindered her, in fact it was an advantage.

Leaping over puddles of London rainwater, she danced happily down the soaked cobble roads of her home town enjoying the spritz of lightly falling rain. Every once in a while she would stop and stare up into the sky, her lashes working double time to blink away stray water and stick her tongue out to catch a drop before twirling and continue on, ignoring the looks of disapproving adults, all safe and boring under their black umbrellas. None went out of their way to stop her though and so she didn't think to stop dancing in the rain.

Bare feet scampered over cement as stringy wet hair struck out like whips every time she threw her body this way and that, tendrils of brunette hair clinging to her pink cheeks. A hand me down t-shirt clung to her skinny frame as she threw her hands in the air, palms facing the sky in a wave before spinning and tilting her head back to let water run down her neck and face, hair sliding down slick skin from the down pour and rain fell heavily as if response to her small dance dedicated to the sky.

All around her the boring adults retreated into the warm buildings, their umbrellas following them but not Elizabeth, she kept dancing. Foot placed in front of foot, legs crossing, arms swaying, she spun in circles and leaped, no set choreography in mind just pure fun. Water splashed high in a tidal waves as she kicked at various puddles and raindrops bounced of her light skin, eyelashes fluttering as she hummed silly songs and giggled.

Just Lizzie and the rain.

Until it wasn't.

A single note. A single bow drawn against a single string, no finger formed to make a different note. Another note and then another and soon a simple melody was being played. She stopped her dance to stare at the man whose fingers were dancing in the rain on the neck of a violin. The tune was slow and almost waltzy until it stopped and the man playing lifted his head to stare into her eyes, a smile playing on his beard surrounded lips, "Well go on Missy, you can't dance without music."

He started his tune up again and she wondered why he wasn't worried about his violin in the chaotic weather. But still she slowly swayed to the music and curtsied to the man before beginning to dance again. Twirling and dreaming, a butterfly in the wind, Elizabeth in the rain. Lizzie loved dancing in the rain, as much as that man loved music in the rain. Even if she would wake up sick tomorrow, even if that man would end up with a waterlogged violin.

Love was like that.

* * *

"So let me get this straight," The blue clad woman started, a hand on her temple that still throbbed nastily after a night of too much alcohol, "You found a portal in time that looks like a writing desk?" The disbelief was clear on her face.

Lizzie paused from her spot behind the counter of the cafe she worked in three times a week, located just below her cheap apartment, before continuing to count the money in her till. Naturally, after freaking out and crying in relief that her sanity was not exactly on leave she had resolved to keep quiet and not tell anyone. However, anyone who is female knows that best friends don't count in those types of promises, they were the ones that knew every creepy detail there was about you. Including the ones that made you look insane.

She continued counting money until the weight of her best friends eyes became too much for her and she peeked up through thick lashes to give a small smile. "Well, I mean, it could be a portal in time. The writing desk is centuries old but it could be a portal to a different dimension or-" A hand was abruptly thrown up into her face as Charlotte began furiously rubbing at her temple.

"So let me get this straight. You found a portal in time," Charlotte paused, "Or dimension that spews out letters from some supposedly cute guy," Here Lizzie blushed lightly having been the one to inform her of the mysterious brothers ways, "And you just write back? Do you have any sense of self preservation? He could be an alien Lizzie, here to find suitable candidates for probing! And now because of your bleeding heart I wont see you for seven years only to one day find you buck naked in a corn patch looking exactly the same and with amnesia. How will I explain this to amnesia-Elizabeth? How Lizzie?"

Charlotte of course, was studying to become a writer. Originally she had studied your basic business classes and the lot before declaring it boring and switching to creative writing much to her parents dismay and Elizabeth's delight. Lizzie never wanted her friend to spend years of her life doing something she hated. Not to mention, Charlotte wasn't the best with numbers. Unfortunately, Lizzie's best friends's imagination skyrocketed after the first week.

"Char, that's absolutely ridiculous." She said closing up the till with a light ting and moving out back to find something to wipe the benches down with.

Charlotte jumped over the counter to help out her friend, sending a pointed look her way. "More ridiculous than time portals. Or writing to a dead guy, who may or may not be super ass sexy?"

Scoffing, Elizabeth turned to throw a cloth at the older brunette. "No way. The way he writes, he's definitely the shy geeky type. You know those adorable intellectuals?" Elizabeth paused to think her next words through. It was odd to think of what the man looked like when all she knew about him came from two letters, which didn't exactly make her sane of mind to others. "I think...I think he'll be of average height, mousy brown hair, thin but so _male. _And his eyes would be an unassuming brown, no one takes the time to just stop and just _look._"

Lizzie blushed realizing how she must have sounded, like a child with her imaginary friend, but Charlotte just giggled, her hands fluttering about. "Go on." She insisted brightly.

Tucking a stray hair behind her pierced ear, Lizzie gave an equally excited grin, though more subdued. "He loves his sister, there's no doubt about that. So a family man." She said with a girlish giggle and making her want to slap herself silly from how childish she sounded but Charlotte merely 'Ohed' and 'Ahhed' which served to spurn her forward.

"But he had a difficult time trying to convey his affections so he's super shy. He's probably really pale and blushes often enough to make him a strawberry. He sounds- writes, like a real sweetheart and mature too. Though childish when excited." Lizzie sighed, "I guess what they say is true, the gentlemen is a rare species. I mean, I thought I knew what a well mannered man was but _this _guy. God, makes me wish I was born into the days of long gone. He thinks I'm some celestial being." She ended with another giggle, more embarrassed than the last.

"Like an angel or something?" Charlotte asked while wiping the green marble counter of the kitchen down. "Cause if I were you, I'd be all over that."

Elizabeth threw another cloth at her friend who stepped to the side to avoid collision, "God Charlotte! It's not like that!" This only made her friend shriek with laughter, "Sure it isn't sweetheart." Charlotte said through her snickers.

With warm cheeks Lizzie glared slightly before pausing, "Thanks for believing me Char."

"Don't be stupid Lizzie. In all the time I've known you, not once have you lied to me. I've got no reason not to believe you, " Charlotte tilted her head to side thoughtfully, "Except for all modern science, laws of physics and religion. But those have never really mattered to me."

Lizzie laughed lightly, "I'm glad I have you Char."

* * *

The weather was not particularly _great, _when Lizzie hesitantly stepped into the same antique shop that had sold her the desk, which meant that it was practically a storm out there. However, with great determination, she was intent on getting some amount of information on her purchase. Ignoring the annoying high pitched ring of the bell that announced her presence, she unbuttoned her rain poncho that would have many fashion police screeching in outrage, no matter the time period. Placing it on the coat hook placed just to the left of the entrance Lizzie winced as she watched droplets of rain make its way down the plastic folds and dripping onto the cleanly polished dark wood panels on the floor- though, inwardly glad that the surface beneath her waterlogged flats was not in fact, carpet.

A warm and throaty chuckle interrupted her silent remorse causing her to snap to attention. A tall women in her late years of life watched her situation with laughter in her dark brown eyes. "Don't worry, dear. The floors shall survive, though I can't say the same for you. Look at you, like a drowned rat. Can I get you a cup of tea? Something nice to warm you up?" The woman smiled, a touch of concern now obvious in her smile.

Embarrassed, Lizzie could only imagine what she looked like, dark hair plastered to her face and nesting a few leaves and twigs. All the while her footwear leaked and she couldn't remember if the mascara she put on this morning was waterproof or not. Trying to be subtle, she used both hands to swipe under her eyes just in case. "Tea sounds lovely, thank you."

"Take a seat, deary. I'll grab you a towel." She gestured to the wonderfully _cushioned _chair in the center of the shop before walking out into another door, most likely to find her a towel.

Lizzie sighed, sending a quick sorry to the beautiful chair she was about to ruin, she sat down in a rush, afraid she would lose her nerve to destroy such a thing. Immediately the thick fabric of the cushions started to soak up the liquid straight from the fabric of her own clothes. With disbelief, Lizzie stared at the chair beneath her and a bout of insanity silently question the inanimate object if it was thirsty, before slapping herself for her stupidity. Apparently the last couple of days had left her with an imagination boost.

The clack of low heels on wood had her looking up as the woman entered the front store once more and placed a fluffy purple towel on her lap. "I've already put the kettle on dear."

Thanking her, Lizzie unfolded the towel to press it against the tip of her braid, watching the woman from the corner of her eyes. Long white hair was pulled back in a coiffed bun and was obviously well taken care of. The woman's clothing were stylish but comfortable and the thin physique spoke of the beautiful young girl, she once was. In her dark eyes, Lizzie could see the mischief and men she had ensnared and in the lines of her face, the fun and laughter she had experienced and in her red painted lips, the peace she now had, the comfort, the love.

"Forgive me dear," The woman spoke with a frazzled shake of her hand, "I forgot to introduce myself, I am Karen." She leaned forward to extend her hand, "And you are?"

Lizzie with now dry hands, took the wrinkled hands of her new acquaintance and gave it two quick pumps, used to having to assure people of her confidence, mainly when meeting new mentors. "Elizabeth, Lizzie if you like. A pleasure to meet you Karen."

"Like wise, Elizabeth." Karen stated with a warm nod, completely ignoring the nickname and causing Lizzie to smile. "So, how may I help you, Elizabeth?"

Lizzie sucked in air before letting it out, "You sold me a desk not too long ago, a male writing desk?"

Karen smiled, eyes twinkling merrily, "Ah, _that _old thing."


End file.
